


The world is just waking up

by captainhurricane



Series: Inspired by art [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Bliss, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, Lazy Mornings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8021596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Boyfriends enjoy a sleepy morning.





	The world is just waking up

**Author's Note:**

> insp by [this pic](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/post/150290820664/some-day-i-will-draw-shiro-without-him-pushing)

Despite being out of the military for months now, Shiro still hadn’t gotten around to a normal daily rhythm. He wakes up at five thirty exactly; no matter how late he had been the previous night, gets up, brushes his teeth, shaves if he has to and gets dressed to go for a morning jog. This morning, however, he doesn’t really feel like it. 

It’s a Sunday, the king of lazy days and the clock is ticking seven in the morning. Keith is half-buried in pillows and the blanket he had hogged to himself at night and Shiro is blinking at the ceiling. The rain doesn’t let up this morning it seems, its pitter-patter as steady as the rhythm of Shiro’s heart. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, reaches for the mess of brown hair sticking out from under the pillow. Keith snarls in his sleep and buries himself deeper. Shiro hides a grin and gets up to dig up a pair of neatly folded boxers. He tugs them on and yawns as he goes to their small bathroom. 

Morning routine is as it always is: comforting and much needed. Wash the face. Brush teeth. Stare at self in the mirror. Shiro taps his cheeks and frowns at his reflection. With a sigh he takes out his razor and starts to shave, hoping that the buzz doesn’t wake Keith up too badly. 

There’s a routine to Shiro’s life these days, a clock inside that keeps him going. Get up, go to work, get back home. Talk with Keith. Watch a movie. Sometimes go out with friends. Sometimes go to gym. Sometimes do nothing but train all day and listen to Keith grumble about his college-mates. Keith doesn’t quite get it: Shiro’s need for steady rhythm, the anxiety that nibbles at Shiro’s ankles if the routine gets messed up. But Keith tries and Shiro cares for him enough to let him into Shiro’s life and bed. 

The sex helps. Shiro huffs a laugh and curses when the razor grazes his skin. He turns it off, wets his thumb and brushes the spot, huffing when it’s nothing but a tiny scratch. 

“S’hiro,” is grumbled from behind him. Shiro blinks, has no time to move before a pair of bare arms are wrapped around him, face smushed against his neck. 

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Shiro smiles, places a palm on Keith’s wrist. 

“My nice dreams about you woke me up,” Keith murmurs and reaches down to Shiro’s crotch, grabs him through his boxers. Shiro shivers, squeezes Keith’s hand. 

“Maybe you should wake up first and go back to bed,” Shiro says, gently drags a nail down Keith’s arm. The skin of it raises in goosebumps. 

“Nah. Teased me too much last night,” Keith mumbles, the flick of his tongue against Shiro’s neck makes the latter huff another laugh. 

“Sorry,” Shiro says again. Keith withdraws, makes him turn around. 

Shiro likes him in many ways but this is his favourite Keith: sleep-rumpled, slightly hunched and without any of the brash nature of his daily self. It helps that this is Keith at his neediest, this is the Keith that may not say what he wants but instead goes for it. 

“You say sorry too much, you idiot,” Keith says and grins, wipes dark strands from his face. 

“Maybe,” Shiro says and leans to kiss Keith’s nose, taking a gentle bite out of it just to hear Keith grumble again. Apparently his companion does like it because Keith drops down on his knees and sighs, pleased as he nuzzles Shiro’s crotch. 

“You know how irritating it is to wake up wanting your dick and you’re not there to give it to me,” Keith mutters, wraps his hands around Shiro’s waist. 

“You know me and my routines,” Shiro says, biting back another sorry. Gasps, lets his ass press against the sink when Keith licks the line of his dick through the tightening fabric. Keith hums, fingers shifting up to the waistband of Shiro’s boxers. Keith lets it snap against Shiro’s skin, snickers when Shiro jolts. 

“Keith,” Shiro’s turn to grumble. He sets his hand on Keith’s hair, strokes the silky locks with a careful hand. Keith purrs, his breath hot on Shiro’s hardening dick. It’s not often that Keith gets into mood so early and not often that he wants to be the one on his knees but Shiro’s happy when it happens. Even when he’s sometimes a little worried Keith might actually choke on his dick: Keith is too into it sometimes for his own good after all. 

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Keith mumbles, fondling Shiro’s balls and directing the still fabric-covered dick towards his mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind tasting cotton as well as Shiro’s arousal as he moans softly when mouths at the curved side of Shiro’s dick. 

Shiro strokes Keith’s hair: softly, slowly, lets his eyes fall closed. 

“I’m glad this got you out of bed,” Shiro murmurs, a groan slipping out when Keith finally tugs his boxers down enough to free his dick. 

“Don’t count on it to happen too often,” Keith says, voice fuzzy with sleep and arousal. He takes Shiro’s tip into his mouth and sucks on it lightly, lazily. Shiro leans back against the sink and prepares for a long, slow torture. 


End file.
